Cold
by thequeenwillruletheboard
Summary: Feeble fingers gripped the rim of the tub, muscling the shivers quiet. She squeezed her eyelids shut, willing the memory of his arms to suffice in keeping her warm. It should worry her that she could make out the explicit lines of her bones beneath her skin, or that the scalding water did nothing to keep her warm, but she has resigned herself to this drawn-out, excruciating demise.


**AN:** This is my submission written for Inuvember Day 3: SessKagu. It was inspired by the prompt "Cold" from _Emotions Prompts_ by schrodanger dot tumblr dot com. I drew my initial inspiration from the scene "Without You" from _RENT_ (2005) and a little bit from _Black Swan._

 **Warning:** Abuse, implied drug use, implied sexual and physical assault, gore, death

 **Dedication:** This is for queen-of-sinking-ships (now narqueen on tumblr) and Princess Jess. I hope you enjoy it!

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Feeble fingers gripped the rim of the tub, muscling the shivers quiet. She squeezed her eyelids shut, willing the memory of his arms to suffice in keeping her warm. For a second, the ghost did its job, but then it left her alone again, in the bathroom of her tiny studio. The hot water dripping down her back could not be afforded, but at this rate she figured she'd be dead before the debt mattered anyway. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and let her head fall into the sizeable gap between them, too drained to even cry anymore. It should worry her that she could make out the explicit lines of her bones beneath her skin, or that the scalding water did nothing to keep her warm, but she has resigned herself to this drawn-out, excruciating demise.

Compulsively, she rubbed her hands along her shins, feeling the new and decrepit shape of her body with the energy she could not expel. A hopeless shudder ran through her, and suddenly she squirmed with discomfort at her nudity, regardless that no one else could see her. Shakily, she reached behind her, switched off the faucet, and climbed out of the footed tub, carelessly dripping water on the floor. She pulled a towel around herself haphazardly, pausing when she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Her soaked obsidian hair stuck to her shoulders and back, partially obscuring the mess of scars that marked it. Clenching her teeth, she bid her brain to bar out the intrusive memories – the ones of that man's laugh, his voice, his pervasive touch – but knowing that she didn't want to remember caused it all to come flooding in through the gate. She dropped the towel as she flung herself down to the toilet, gagging on the memories of his assault. Her nails dug into her skin, ripping across her arms and her shoulders and her neck, tearing away at the residue of his sticky hands that left permanent rot beneath the surface; though no one could see it; she could always feel it and _it wouldn't go away_ no matter how hard she scratched or scrubbed. His voice rang in her ears and taunted her, reminded her that she would never run far enough to escape the effect he had on her.

All her yearnings had been for freedom, for the ability to walk where she wanted, to breathe whatever air she came across and fly away on it, but he had poisoned her. She'd fallen in love with and trusted a sadist, and she let him drug her and subdue her; by the time she'd woken up and realized her fate, nothing could change it. Death loomed not far behind, a specter following her down the path she ran. If survival could be an option, she craved it. She'd do anything to earn it back for herself, but looking down at her frail body, riddled with illness and venom, she knew indisputably that recovery danced far out of her reach. The only way to escape a spider's web was to be devoured or tossed aside by its creator.

She laid on the cold floor beside the toilet, too exhausted to stand and find something to wear or even to crawl into the sparse linens she called a bed, so she pulled the towel over herself as best she could and concentrated on her shuddering breaths, ensuring that they kept her alive long enough not to die naked and helpless on her bathroom floor.

The oxygen sustained her, and somehow it calmed her enough to remember the man she looked to for comfort and salvation: the one she knew could erase her pain for a few minutes. She wished he were with her now – she didn't want to die freezing and alone. She closed her eyes and imagined he'd come for her, temporarily erasing the molded touch of her abuser, temporarily allowing her body's aches to ease into dull pains, temporarily reminding her of what real love felt like, even unrequited. Love, an emotion incapable of existing within him, but she forgave it, as he'd never held it against her. He never held anything against her, and she couldn't fathom the possibility. She ached for his attendance now, her fingers stretching outward in hopes to touch him, but she disappointed herself. Consciousness fading, she begged desperately. _Please, my love, save me._

To her surprise, she awoke. Her crimson eyes found the sight of her bedroom ceiling, and her fingers found the familiar texture of her bedclothes. _How..?_ Turning to her bedside, she found that her prayers had been answered. Her lips pulled into a frail smile. "You came…"

He nodded, shining silver and gold in her eyes. "I heard that you escaped from him, Kagura. There's no way you got away unscathed."

"So you came for me," she repeated, reaching her hand out for him. She noticed he'd clothed her before laying her to rest in bed. "I'm sorry."

His gaze remained glued to the wall opposite him. "There's no need to apologize."

She nodded, and turned to look in the same direction as he had. The dingy window that led to the fire escape glowed with the light of falling dusk and rising night, and she ached for fresh air. "Sesshomaru? May I ask a favor?"

"Hm?" he replied softly.

"Take me to the window. I want to watch the sky turn dark."

Swiftly, he wrapped her up in her blankets and carried her to the window. He pried it open with ease and stepped onto the fire escape. She tucked herself closely into his body, his warmth chasing away the cold from her bones. He sat with her curled in his lap on the steps, facing the direction of the sunset. They watched together in silence as the clouds reflected back a blend of bronze, coral and lavender, spreading over their heads until the purple bled into a deeper blue and the glow of city lights dominated the indigo sky. As the last pop of cerulean faded behind the skyline, she felt the wind pick up, tangling their hair together: a mess of onyx and frost. "Is this the freedom you wanted?" he murmured.

"I suppose it is, yes," she whispered. Her lungs strained now, and her breath followed a ragged and shallow pattern. Her eyelids were almost to heavy to prop open anymore, and she could feel control of her muscles slipping as her limbs went slack.

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

"Yes, I've had enough," she croaked, fighting her failing lungs. "I'm glad I got to see you, one last time." Her mouth widened into the largest smile she had managed in her life, and relief flooded through her nerves. "Thank you." She closed her eyes and her body gave one last great shudder before it surrendered to the cold.

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 **AN:** I borrowed the dialogue from her canon death scene because I've always loved that moment and how much is communicated in a few gestures and lines, especially given Kagura's past. I found it really interesting to try the angle of human Naraku having a hold over Kagura somehow, and for the sake of the plot, he was her lover and her drug dealer. In this scene, she's withdrawing from all the crap he had her on, and that coupled with her poor economic status and incapability to provide for herself left her immune system weak, so it killed her. I'm not sure if the "cold" theme really came through, but I like the way this story turned out anyway. Thanks for reading!


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